Show him the garlands of the present and the past, withering at the touch of the Erinnys in the future.

In pity, in pity show him the canker which he is introducing into the sap of the tree of life, which shall cause its root to be hereafter as bitterness, and its blossom to go up as dust.
But the sense of sin was on Eric's mind.

How _could_ he speak?
was not his own language sometimes profane?
How--how could he profess to reprove another boy on the ground of morality, when he himself said did things less ruinous perhaps, but equally forbidden?
For half an hour, in an agony of struggle with himself, Eric lay silent.
Since Bull's last words nobody had spoken.

They were going to sleep.

It was too late to speak now, Eric thought.